Vampire Overlord's Harem In The Apocalypse

The gun was raised, and Simon's gaze fixed on the man holding it. The weapon itself was a threat, but what unnerved Simon wasn't the barrel aimed at him — it was the cold, unfeeling eyes of the man behind it.

They were blue — unnaturally cold blue, like frozen shards of ice. They seemed to pierce through Simon, cutting deep, as though they were looking past his skin, past his flesh, and straight into his soul.

He wasn't afraid of the gun. He wasn't afraid of dying — not anymore.

No, what frightened him was the hollow man standing before him, the one whose eyes seemed to have already given up on humanity. Simon's fingers tightened around the handle of the keg he was holding.

It was strange — a small, odd comfort, but it kept him grounded. His other hand rested on the small knife tucked into his belt, but he knew it wouldn't be enough against the man and the weapon.

He needed a plan, something more than just a knee-jerk reaction.

Simon's eyes darted around. There was no one else nearby. Just him and this... creature.

The word didn't seem to fit — it was too humane, too much of a label. He didn't know what this man was anymore. What had he become? They were supposed to be survivors, together, in this godforsaken world.

Humanity, even in the apocalypse, was meant to support each other. Wasn't that what they were fighting for? To preserve the last vestiges of humanity? And yet, here they were, on the brink of a life-or-death struggle, driven by some twisted desire for something more.

"Why?" Simon asked, his voice hoarse, almost as if the word itself pained him.

Why kill? Why choose this path? They were already in the apocalypse — how much more could one man possibly gain by taking another's life? Wasn't survival enough?

The man's lips barely moved as he spoke, his voice flat and devoid of any inflection. "Look, man, I'm just trying to reach the Top Ten."

Simon's brows furrowed. Top Ten?

The man didn't wait for a response. "The Voice promised rewards. You heard it too, right? It's real. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's heard it. You've heard it, haven't you?"

Everyone had heard the whispers of this so-calledGod of the Apocalypse. Everyone had. It was just rumors… It was in the air, in the back of your mind, tugging at you when you least expected it.

All you had to do was climb the rankings. Be the best. Kill. Survive. The world wasn't what it used to be; it was a new game, a game of numbers, of points. But Simon didn't care. He never had.

Reaching the top of the world ranking? It didn't matter to him. He wasn't in it for the glory or the fame.

Hell, there were only about four billion survivors left. Getting to the Top Ten would require not just killing zombies — an endless supply of them — but people too. Humans.

The very thing Simon was trying to protect. No, the ranking didn't appeal to him. It didn't make sense.

"Top Ten?" Simon muttered to himself, more thinking out loud than asking the man. "That's your goal? To be one of the top killers in the world?"

The man's eyes remained locked on Simon, unwavering. There was something unsettling about the way he stared — like he wasn't even seeing Simon anymore. As if he was looking at a mere obstacle to be removed, a stepping stone to greater things.

The man gave a small, humorless smile.

"Yeah, that's right. Top Ten. Four billion people, man. That's a hell of a lot of kills. But I'll get there. One way or another."

Simon shook his head slowly, as if trying to wake himself up from a bad dream. The world had changed, no doubt. But this? This wasn't survival.

This was madness.

A man so desperate for rewards he was willing to kill anyone standing in his way. What had happened to the world? What had happened to them?

For a moment, Simon considered just walking away. He could turn his back, leave this man behind, and keep moving toward the car. He could just keep fighting to survive, as he had been doing.

But something tugged at him — something deeper, something darker. Was he really any better than this man? How many times had he killed for his own survival? Wasn't he just as guilty?

If he were to walk away now, wouldn't it just be another day of running from his own moral compass?

"Bring it on," Simon finally said, his voice low but firm.

The man's expression didn't change. He was unfazed by Simon's defiance. In fact, the gun seemed to rise a little higher as the man took aim.

The world slowed.

Simon's mind shifted into overdrive, his vampire instincts kicking in. His enhanced reflexes, honed by his bloodline, felt sharper than ever before.

The shot rang out — a loud crack in the stillness of the abandoned street — but Simon was already moving. The bullet missed him by inches, slicing through the air where his face had been only a moment before.

His crimson eyes gleamed in the low light, a smirk curling his lips as he straightened.

He had dodged it easily, the shot nothing more than a harmless attempt to take him down.

The man might have thought it would be a clean shot, but Simon was no mere human. He had more than enough power to evade, to survive.

"Just try to kill me," Simon taunted, his voice filled with a mix of confidence and cockiness that only a vampire could possess.

The man hesitated for a split second, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. But Simon knew he would pull the trigger again.

He had to. There was no turning back for him now. He wasn't going to stop until he reached the Top Ten, and Simon was standing in his way.

If the man was willing to kill to survive, then Simon would do the same.

In the end, it wasn't just about survival anymore – it was about proving who was more of a monster.

The man raised the gun again, and this time Simon was ready.